


Glow

by Raven_Ehtar



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Ehtar/pseuds/Raven_Ehtar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the quiet of predawn, Castiel thought he could hear Dean's heartbeat, the throbbing of his pulse, a rhythmic counter point to the melody of his breathing. Cass stared, and wondered. It was all so very strange...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glow

**Author's Note:**

> I have so many projects lined up and that need attention… I have this bad habit of over-committing myself to the point of collapse. But I still had to do this. I had to. It's a compulsion.
> 
> (…I have a problem…)
> 
> I have not seen any of Season 8, and this takes nothing in that season into account. Inspired by a piece of fanart by brilcrist, which I can no longer find on either her deviantART or tumblr galleries. -.-
> 
> Music:  
>  _AFTERGLOW_ by GeHOF on YouTube

It was all so strange, Cass thought to himself, in a floating, disconnected kind of way, the face so close to his own slumbering peacefully.

All so very strange.

He had… _existed_ … as an angel for so very long. For a good portion of that time he had never really understood them; humans. Never _understood_ a good many things, he was coming to realize. For example, he’d never fully understood this need they had for touches, for physical expressions of communication, of love, or for the base desires for copulation. He’d known of it, of course, one could hardly oversee the human race for as long as he had without it becoming fully ingrained as part of one’s knowledge of them. A bare decade could accomplish the same feat. But he had never _understood_ it. 

He understood love – or thought he did. It was something every angel was designed to know and to feel: the love for God, their Father, the love of each other, their brothers and sisters, even love for humankind, their Father’s chosen children. He understood that, could feel it within himself, a living part of his being. But while he felt those loves easily, he could not transpose them to the kind of physical expressions that humans were so very fond of. For a long time, Castiel assumed it was just a human thing. An animal thing, an instinctual urge woven into them only to ensure the creation of children.

And then he had met Dean Winchester, the Righteous Man. And Castiel, angel and soldier of God, began to change. 

Dean’s face was soft in sleep. His eyes closed so the lashes rested against his cheek, casting delicate shadows across his skin, his brows not drawn together and low as they so often were in waking. His mouth was relaxed, his lips ever so slightly reddened and parted, even, steady breaths escaping him as he slept. His head was heavy, cushioned on Cass’s shoulder, mussed hair tickling his neck even as rough stubble prickled him. 

And he was warm. So very warm. 

Not so hot, close to searing, as he had been before. This was a comfortable, basking heat that sank easily into Castiel wherever their two bodies came into contact: Dean’s head on his right shoulder, the heavy, sleep laden arm lain across his waist, the stretch of the hunter’s body pressed against his side… 

In the quiet of predawn, Castiel thought he could hear Dean’s heartbeat, the throbbing of his pulse, a rhythmic counter point to the melody of his breathing. 

Cass stared, and wondered. It was all so very strange.

He hadn’t understood, as an angel, how it was humankind could stand to go on living, sometimes. The world they fashioned for themselves was so bleak, so cruel, even without the ever present threat of demons or monsters that lurked around them, and they seemed to find so little joy in their lives. Their connection to God seemed so distant when compared to the angels’, and even they could not feel their Father so often as they would like. How did they continue on, on mere hope, or faith? What of those who had neither, how did they justify the struggle to continue surviving, when all they could envision was more of the same? He hadn’t understood, felt he never would. Not fully.

And then he had met Dean Winchester, and he had begun to change. He had met Dean Winchester, and he began to Fall.

It was a long Fall, one he resisted with all his might while still holding true to what it was he believed. It seemed so wrong that he should struggle to hold his grace and his principles together in his hands, that one could not be held with the other. As he trusted his instinct, his sense of what was right, his grace slowly faded away, slipping through his fingers even as he gripped it tight, and left him empty. Empty of all, save his convictions. 

He Fell, he became human. Suddenly he wondered not how _they_ managed to face each new day, but how _he_ was to face each new day. He lost his celestial family, his brothers and sisters, even his Father who had abandoned him, abandoned them all, and was become one of those who rarely felt hope, or faith…

And he found he had another family waiting for him. A family of hunters.

_But still_ , he thought, turning his face to the window, where even now he could see the first telltale glow of dawn approaching. Even with a surrogate family, how was he to live, how was he to survive, closed off from all he had known, all the love he had once had as a soldier of God? Watching the Winchesters, Sam and Dean, and their constant struggles, what they suffered, time and again, and the number of times they just wished they could stop, did nothing to reassure him. How did they continue, was it pure stubbornness?

He hadn’t understood. He hadn’t understood, though they tried hard to explain. 

And the few things Cass had thought he understood, they came crumbling down around him. 

He’d thought he understood… until Dean had stood before him, still and quiet, intense green eyes watching him close, searching his face as though he might find an answer to some unspoken question hidden there, and bit his lip. Until Dean stood there, at a loss for words, one hand reaching for Cass and yet seeming so unsure, uncertain, hesitant, Castiel had thought he understood what love felt like. Love had been a staunch thing, a firm and fierce loyalty and bond… What this was, was an ache, a pain, a dropping sensation that began beneath his breastbone, went through his stomach and all the way to his feet. It was a buzzing in his head, an elastic snap between his shoulders, a sucking void at his heart that left him gasping.

How could humans stand it? How could _he_ stand it? And yet he wanted more of it… 

He could not understand. It was all so very strange.

And when he had reached for Dean, catching the retreating fingers in his own, the shock that went through him at that touch was strange, too.

He’d thought he understood love, and Dean Winchester, and the bizarre human need for carnal expression. He’d been wrong, on all three. Love was more than loyalty and duty, Dean was more than stubbornness and need, and the physical manifestation of love was more than instinct. 

Dean breathed softly in his hair, and dawn light, soft in its youth, fell across Castiel’s face. It was all so strange, and yet… 

He had watched humanity for millennia, and this had always seemed to crass, so base a thing, the words man used to describe it as anything else an empty mouthing, an attempt to glorify animalistic urges. 

It was so different, _experiencing._

In the silence, Cass could feel a change within himself. Under the slack lethargy of his muscles, under the contented weight of Dean’s warm body, he could feel the shift, the connection to Dean. It was something that had always been there, but never quite like this. The ache and pain and gasping void, they were all tied together in this thing he and Dean shared, but combined to make something more. Like the leaden weight of his limbs or the easy warmth of Dean’s body, it was a contented thing, now.

It was the first time, Castiel realized, he had felt complete since his Fall; since losing his grace.

Watching and experiencing, he thought, were as different from each other as knowing and understanding. 

It was all very strange…

And yet, facing the gentle glow of new dawn, listening to Dean breathe and feeling the strong beat of his heart against his side, Castiel thought he might be beginning to understand.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I spell Castiel's nickname as 'Cass' rather than 'Cas.' This isn't because it's the official way to spell it, and I'm not fighting to get it recognized as the proper way to spell his name – I'm not aiming to start any fan wars, here. It's just that I watch the show with subtitles and read the books, and his name is always spelled as 'Cass,' and I've gotten used to it. And personally I think it looks more balanced with two 'S's. I'm fine with anyone's personal choices as to how they spell it, and it doesn't bother me to read it as 'Cas,' I just prefer 'Cass' when writing it out. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading, everyone!


End file.
